Paul and Lucy Spadoni periodically live in Tuscany to explore Paul’s Italian roots, practice their Italian and enjoy “la dolce vita.”
All work is copyrighted and may not be reprinted without written permission from the author, who can be contacted at www.paulspadoni.com

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Chances look slim for Lucy to become an Italian citizen this time around

Thursday, March 30

Remember the slogan: ‟The thrill of
victory and the agony of defeat?” We experienced both today, though
it’s an exaggeration to say that our competition is as meaningful
as the Olympic Games or the NCAA Final Four (go Bulldogs!). Still,
our struggle to gain Lucy’s citizenship is the only game on
our personal schedule right now, so we’re taking it seriously.

A poliziotta came yesterday to
confirm that Lucy indeed lives in our house, and we assumed the policewoman would
turn in her paperwork this morning. We already had Lucy’s official
photos in hand, so we went off to the Municipio. Everything went
smoothly, and within a half hour, Lucy had her much-treasured carta
d’identità, confirming her residency. By early afternoon, we were
off to Lucca to start step 3: cittadinanza—citizenship.

Not so fast, said the clerk at the
Prefettura. Citizenship requires a year of residency, he maintained.
His colleague agreed. Che cosa? ‟What?” I said. ‟That’s
not what I was told last month. There must be a mistake. The man who
was in this office last month said we needed a permesso di soggiorno
and then residency. After that, we could apply for citizenship.”

‟That’s a problem for me,” he
said, ‟because my understanding is you must be a resident for a
year.”

‟Can I talk to someone else? I’m
sure the man I spoke to previously said we could go ahead.”

The man gave me the name of colleague,
Signora Bertelli, someone with more authority, and said we could go
talk to her. We found her office, but the story didn’t change. She
even quoted us the law from a thick book. The paragraph she cited
said the residency requirement was actually only six months, but then
she explained that this law had since been changed to two years, or
one year if the person applying had children.

At this point, we had been told by
three people that we would have to wait another year, but I was not
ready to give up. By now, I’ve had enough experience dealing with
Italian bureaucracy to know that ‟no” isn’t always a final
answer.

I remember being in the Italian
Consulate in San Francisco once when a man had come in wanting a visa
on short notice. ‟Absolutely impossible,” the clerk said without
hesitation. ‟You should have applied for this months ago.”

The man went on the explain the
circumstances, including why he couldn’t have applied for it
previously. He went right on as if she had just said, ‟The weather
is cold, isn’t it?” instead of ‟Absolutely impossible.” Soon
he was filling out his forms and paying for his visa.

So, am I Italian enough to do the same?
Probably not. Still, I went back to the first office and let the two
men know that even though Signora Bertelli had confirmed their
opinion, I still wasn’t satisfied. I wanted to know who else worked
in their office. Who was the man who had told me we could do this? I
recalled then that the mystery man had spoken on the phone to another
colleague, and that colleague had told him that a letter had been
written recently clarifying the law. I think it may have said that
people who had been married prior to a certain year fell under a
different set of regulations.

They gave me the name of another
colleague, Dottor Pierotti, who sometimes works in their office. They
tried to call him but learned that he was out of town and wouldn’t
be back until the following Wednesday. And so, clinging to the slight
chance that he can help us, we will take another trip to Lucca. We
also take some hope in the fact that even though Signora Bertelli
showed us the law book that she had read from, she admitted that the
law had changed since the book had been printed. Could it not have
changed again? We’ll soon find out . . .

Does the law SPECIFY that the year has to be at one specific place? If not, Lucy has lived in Italy for more than a year. Does the law SPECIFY that the year has to be consecutive months? If no, you could reasonably argue that conditions have been met. Anonymous=Sorella

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‟An American family spends a year in Italy–a dream, a disaster, laughter and tears, an unforgettable memory. Warning: this book may cause you to book a flight to Italy. Enjoy!” –Maria Coletta McLean, author of My Father Came from Italy

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About Me

First off, before you hassle me about our title, Lucy thought of it. Yes, I know some people may think broad is derogatory, but the etymology is uncertain and she doesn’t find it offensive, and it made me laugh. We have been married since 1974 and are empty-nesters now, which allows me to bring my submerged Italophilia into the open. We first came to live in Italy from February-April in 2011 and have returned during the same months every year. From 2011-2015, we lived in San Salvatore, at the foot of the hilltop city Montecarlo, where my paternal grandparents were born, raised and, in 1908, married. In late 2015, we bought a home in Montecarlo. We come for a variety of purposes: We want to re-establish contact with distant cousins in both Nonno’s and Nonna’s families, we want to learn the language and see what it is like to live as Italians in modern Italy, we like to travel and experience different cultures. Even if we aren’t successful at achieving these purposes, we love Italy and enjoy every moment here, so there is no chance we will be disappointed. I am grateful to God for giving me a wife who is beautiful, clever, adaptable and willing to jump into my dreams wholeheartedly.